Growth Spurt
by E.Wills
Summary: Hiccup's creative brain goes a mile a minute, and he's been neglecting himself in favor of his projects. Astrid's not having it.


"I'm going to hide that leg where you'll never find it," Astrid announced, crossing her arms. "Then you'll have to build yourself a new one. A _better_ one."

Hiccup sighed, hobbling around his house, trying to deny his discomfort.

He had gone through a growth spurt, and his prosthetic leg was suddenly short by at least a couple inches. For about a week, he had only a small limp. Astrid's sharp eyes had been quick to catch it, but he had brushed off her concern, assuring her he would replace the inadequate limb before his gait worsened. His excuse was the mounting order of saddles, and Gobber practically breathing down his neck while he worked to insure he did not slack off or divert his attention to more personal projects. For a time, it had ended her nagging.

While those excuses were true enough, Hiccup exaggerated his mentor's oversight, knowing Gobber would gladly shoulder more of the workload for the time it took to construct a new leg. The older Viking was not unreasonable when it came to such things, appreciating the necessity of a proper fit better than most people.

Hiccup had simply procrastinated, only growing taller. His mild limp became a pronounced lurch, accompanied by the sporadic hiss of pain and almost involuntary expletive. Excuses were no longer good enough to silence Astrid's fussing, and she was not reserved in all the ways she threatened to coerce him into building his new leg sooner rather than later.

"I'm_ going _to get to it," he told her between gritted teeth. A sharp, shooting pain raced up his left leg, aggravating his already aching hip. Each uneven step brought his weight down on his stump with greater force than usual. He was spending more time hopping around on one leg than utilizing the false one. "I just–_ahh_–have a lot of work to–_Frigg–!_"

Astrid growled, striding over to him, sweeping her braid back. "Sit down," she commanded.

"Why–?"

"Sit," she repeated, pressing firmly against his shoulder.

His left leg buckled with an agonizing throb. He collapsed with a groan, taking a seat at the table.

"Why do you feel the need to frequently manhandle me?" he asked, frowning.

"Because words don't always bore through that thick head of yours." Astrid's hands attacked the fastenings of his prosthetic, and Hiccup did not bother to stifle the soft, pleasurable sigh when the unyielding wood was gone. "Am I going to have to badger you about this for the rest of our lives together?"

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow. "_Our_ lives…together?"

"Shut up," she grumbled, lightly swatting his inner knee. "Is that any better?"

"Yes," he admitted, though he always felt distinctly lopsided without his false leg. Astrid began kneading the sore limb. He grimaced for a moment, then closed his eyes and focused on the more enjoyable sensations of the massage. "You're so good at that."

Her eyes flickered to his face.

"I would hope so. I have to do it often enough."

"Sorry–"

"How about you build yourself a new leg, instead of another apology?"

"I will, Astrid. Okay? I just have to–"

She scoffed and sat back on her knees, throwing her hands in the air. "You always say that and it's been, what? A month now? No one's going to be in physical pain because they have to wait for a Thorsdamned saddle. You, on the other hand, have been getting worse. Are you trying to win sympathy points or something?"

"_No._ I'm trying to do my job. There are people relying on me- Gobber's relying on me. I can't…I can't just…I don't want to disappoint anyone," he answered, and immediately regretted it.

He expected a reprimand or, at the very least, some dismissive remark, but Astrid just considered him.

"Berk first, and you always second. Is that it?" she asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite meeting her scrutinizing stare.

"Yeah. Something like that."

She rolled her eyes and stood up. Without an explanation, she turned and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, leaving him to gawk at her boldness. He held his hands out inquisitively, even though she could not see it. He listened to her rummage around his room, feeling a bit violated; but she was on the stairs again before he could even grab his prosthetic.

In her hand, she held a blank piece of parchment and a charcoal pencil. She crossed the room and set the sketching materials in front of him with authority.

"The rest of Berk can wait a little longer for those saddles," she said. "There's another person on the island who can build them…" Her tone softened and she added, "But there's only one you. To Hel with the rest of them, if they're disappointed. I think you're more important than a heap of leather."

He picked up the pencil and retorted, "Yes, but it's very _nice _leather."

Astrid furrowed her brow and mouthed wordlessly at him. He could not help but crack a smile, and she just shook her head.

"I'm dating an idiot," she murmured.

Hiccup laughed and gazed down and the pencil in his hand, rolling it back and forth between his fingers.

He knew Astrid had a point. She always admired him for his selflessness, unless it came at personal detriment. It was not necessarily a conscious decision on Hiccup's part, however. He had an inherent need for the village's approval– past, present, and future. Even still.

"I'm an idiot for caring about Berk?" he mused.

"No. You're an idiot for forcing your girlfriend watch you in pain for the past month, for worrying her for no reason, and for downplaying your misery for the benefit of everyone else," Astrid answered. She gestured to the parchment on the table. "I brought that so you could sketch up a new prosthetic. I'm not leaving until you do. I'm not letting _you_ leave until you do, because…this is the only way I know how to help you."

Hiccup pursed his lips and gazed at the floor. He had not intended to upset her. He knew, of course, that she had been frustrated; but the way she spoke to him then conveyed helplessness. It was not an emotion she often displayed; and he could imagine, if the roles were reversed, it would torment him to watch her suffering. He regretted causing her any unhappiness, because in his mind, she came first in most things, right alongside Toothless. then his projects. Then Berk. He was still last. Always last.

He wanted to set things right, but asking for forgiveness rarely got him anything. His girlfriend preferred action.

"I do have an idea or two for a new leg," he told her. He swiveled around to face the parchment. "I could really use your input. A second opinion would definitely help-keep the design more practical."

He had just barely begun sketch when he felt Astrid's arms wrap around his shoulders. He suppressed a shiver when her lips brushed his ear.

"Apology accepted," she murmured.


End file.
